Maggie's Song Page 2

  She knew when the time was right there would plenty opportunity to show the world what she could do. If it weren’t for that nagging sense of time running through the hourglass so quickly…

  Standing at the waning edge of her 30’s, Maggie’s chances for landing that elusive recording contract were, if her boyfriend Richard was to be believed, dwindling by the second. The music industry wasn’t exactly clamoring for 30-something women looking to start a career in music.

  And then, there was the issue of image. Maggie was a woman of ample figure with curves to spare. There were occasional remarks from industry insiders and well meaning acquaintances that she’d be much more successful in the business if she dropped fifty pounds.

  One label representative told her, somewhat bluntly, that he wouldn’t sign her because her body wouldn’t look good in print or video. “Great voice, kid,” he said. “But this business is what it is.”

  Maggie’s personal fears and insecurities relegated her to the dark club stages and the shadows of more aesthetically palatable, albeit far less talented women in the business that was what it was.

  Over time in the Timmons camp, however, she went from merely being a hired gun to a part of the familial surroundings Charles and Deana worked tirelessly to cultivate among their staff. With no children of their own, they came to view their team as offspring, with the words “Family First” emblazoned on the back of their tour bus.

  Family First was also the title of Deana’s breakthrough album and the song for which she’d best become known. She ended all her shows with it, and many a banner would rise from the sold out audiences with the words etched across anything from old bed sheets to poster board. Eight of the ten songs on that project were either written or co-written by Maggie. She had become Deana’s creative right arm.

  And on this particular morning, on this particular tour bus, that right arm was tired and ready for a break.

  One more show…but not just any show. The Queen was returning to her throne. They were headed home - to Nashville. Then, a much deserved rest.

  Back road became highway, which slowly began to reveal to the city’s impressive skyline. Maggie smiled. Despite its rich tradition, the cadre of respected musicians and songwriters the city was known for producing, and the burgeoning diversity of styles, the mainstream music industry wonks in LA and New York dismissed Nashville as a poor relation, a b-list community. For Maggie, however, this town would always be her first love. It was the city that cradled her ambitions and nurtured her talents. In her mind, there was no better place to be.

  Maggie fished around in her purse to retrieve her cell phone. She vacillated between her desire to call Grace and her obligation to phone Richard. Her relationship with Richard Davidson, a handsome, prominent entertainment lawyer, served more as an appeasement to her father, rather than any real romantic connection. While Dexter felt a certain degree of pride over his daughter’s accomplishments, her choice of music over law was an obvious disappointment.

  Maggie figured the next best thing to being a lawyer might be to marry one. Not that marriage was something that was on either of their minds.

  Maggie decided she’d phone her best friend to let her know that she’d be home in a few hours. Speed dialing the Buchanan residence, the voice mail eventually kicked in.

  “Hello, you have reached the Buchanan’s.”

  It was a voice that thrilled Maggie’s heart to the core: her goddaughter and namesake, eight year old Mary Margaret, more affectionately known as M&M. The child’s endearingly businesslike message continued.

  “Momma, Daddy, Gwen, Matty and me can’t come to the phone right now - but leave your name and number and we’ll call you back. Oh you gotta do it after the beep. Bye!”

  “Hey gang, it’s Mag. We’re just hitting I-65 and we’ll be in town right around 5. I’ll call you when I get back to the house, but I was hoping to catch you now…because I wanted to let you know I not only have great seats for the show, but I’ve got those badges to get you backstage…so tell little Gwennie, she’s finally gonna get to meet her hero, Deana Timmons! I believe that this officially makes me cool and you two officially lame! Ha ha. Love you guys, can’t wait to see you.”

  Maggie was sure Richard wasn’t waiting by the phone to hear from her. There would be plenty of time to contact him later. Her heart was already at the Buchanan’s dinner table - the place she felt most at home. Besides, if her suspicions are correct, he’d found his own way of passing the time.

  The bus pulled into the parking lot of a local shopping mall, where the band members had left their cars. Departures were swift and jovial, with Maggie and Darla packed up and on their way in a matter of minutes. “That’s the beauty of being a singer,” Darla quipped. “You always have your equipment packed and ready to roll.”

  Maggie lived in the quiet, suburban area of Franklin, a town about fifteen minutes south of downtown Nashville. She’d chosen this Rockwellian town for its similarity to her home in Urbana - the centers of both towns were practically identical.

  As Darla pulled into the driveway of Maggie’s condo, two cars were already parked: One was Maggie’s, the other vehicle had an occupant inside, windows rolled shut and a steady bass throbbing from what was obviously music turned up loud. It was Grace.

  “Wow,” said Darla. “She’s definitely trying to drown something out. What on earth is she listening to?”

  Maggie closed her eyes in concentration. “Duran Duran.”

  Darla winced. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You can take the child out of the 80’s…”

  “She does know that there has been other music written and recorded since then, right?”

  “Not as far as she’s concerned.”

  “Bless her heart,” Darla sighed, uttering the ubiquitous phrase of the South.

  Maggie knew Darla spoke with more sympathy than sarcasm, and chuckled softly. “Yeah…I’m not sure what’s going on, but you’re right, something’s up.”

  “Well, good luck, hon. See you tomorrow night. What time’s sound check?”

  “I’m gonna get there a little early, but we’ll kick off at 4:30,” Maggie said as the two women embraced. “See you then.”

  Chapter 3

  Maggie grabbed her things from Darla’s trunk and made her way Grace’s car. She could see Grace through the tinted windows, head back, eyes shut, and the strains of “Rio” filling the car.

  Shaking her head and laughing to herself, Maggie knocked on the window. Remarkably, Grace immediately responded. She simultaneously rolled down the window and turned down the music. “You know, there is a noise ordinance,” Maggie said sarcastically.

  “Sorry officer,” Grace countered. The two women laughed as Grace got out of the car to hug her best friend.

  “Maggie, I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed. “How are you?”

  “Good. Tired, but good.”

  Maggie loosened her hold, but Grace held fast. “I knew it…” Maggie said, pulling back, “What’s up?”

  Grace looked quizzically at her. “Up? What do you mean up? Nothing’s up.”

  “Girl, you’re in my driveway with Simon LeBon cranked to 11. What’s going on?”

  Grace was evasive. “Let’s get you inside and unpacked. I have a surprise for you for you. You go ahead and I’ll get it, Okay?”

  Maggie raised a brow. “Ohhhhhh-kay,” she said skeptically.

  Deciding that getting to the bottom of Grace’s mystery was far more important than unpacking, Maggie took her luggage upstairs to the bedroom and left it in the middle of the floor. She changed into one of her dad’s old Ohio State football jerseys and grey sweat pants, and headed to the kitchen to find Grace busying herself with restocking the refrigerator.

  “You got me groceries? You’re a doll! Thank you!” Maggie exclaimed with delight. “Seriously sweetie…you did not have to do this!”

  “Oh please! You’ve been gone for three weeks, and you always live on takeout right before you
go so you don’t let any food go to waste. I knew your cupboards would be bare, Mother Hubbard!”

  “You are the best,” said Maggie, joining in on the activity. She mentally wrestled with how to approach what was obviously plaguing Grace, who had a bad habit of avoiding subjects with any available distraction.

  “Okay, in my backpack upstairs, I’ve got your tickets and your meet-and-greet passes to get backstage,” Maggie said, opting for the indirect route to the point.

  “Hmmm…” Grace responded absent-mindedly, not slowing her work for a second. The efforts weren’t lost on Maggie, who simply stopped what she was doing, leaned against the counter top, folded her arms and continued.

  “You’re gonna love the seats…”

  There was no response from Grace. Maggie continued.

  “Yeah, it’s gonna be so exciting…there will be some serious Nashville celebrity backstage that night. Maybe even some folks from L.A. All the entertainment networks will be there. It’s gonna be huge.”

  “Uh huh. that’s nice.”

  Maggie moved in closer to see if Grace was even aware of her presence at that point. “And I’m especially psyched because Bert and Ernie are planning to stop by. So is Bugs Bunny. Oscar the Grouch. Generalissimo Franco.”

  Now practically sitting in the pantry, Grace was silent, and Maggie was getting irritated.

  “Grace. Grace?” Maggie placed her hand over Grace’s as the latter attempted to organize soup cans. “Gracie….stop!” Maggie yelled. “Now what’s going on? Come on girl, talk to me.”

  Grace finally ceased her flurry, stood up and turned around. Facing Maggie she sighed, “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you. But, can we please open a bottle of wine first?”

  “Of course,” Maggie said softly as she turned to survey the contents of her wine rack. Removing a bottle of vintage Malbec, Grace said, “I noticed that’s the one thing in this house I’ve never needed to replace at grocery time.”

  “Hey, I’m trapped in a 12-bunk zoo with all manner of musical animals for like, a bazillion years at a time,” Maggie cracked as she pulled the cork out of the bottle. “I’ve earned my alcoholism.”

  Maggie retrieved the wine and two glasses, and took them into the living room. Gathering her legs underneath her, she settled into the corner of her sectional sofa. “Okay. Start talking.”

  “Well,” said Grace, taking a sip of her wine and placing it on the coffee table. “I guess it’s not that big of a deal…okay, it could be a big deal…it didn’t start out as a big deal, but now it’s looking as though it’s probably gonna to become one…”

  “Do I need to be here for this part of the conversation, Grace?”

  “Sorry. So, we’re all set to go to your concert tomorrow. Joe’s really been looking forward to it; because it means that we’re gonna spend time together as a family. We’ve not had time to do that for a while, because of my work with the Art Center…”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, at the center, there have been some changes. The grant I’d been working for came through…”

  “Oh Gracie, that’s great, I know you lobbied hard for that. I’m so proud of you!”

  “Thanks. That’s the upside. Because it means we can take about half a dozen more kids. Oh, those kids…” As her mind began to drift, her voice took on a far away tone.

  “Gracie…” Maggie said, attempting to cut through the fog. “Focus, honey. Please.”

  “Right. Sorry. So, more kids…coming at a really bad time, because Ronnie’s off to have her baby, and Darryl’s taking that job in Seattle…”

  “So, the rest of the staff needs to pick up the slack for a while.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And they’re looking to you to pick up more hours.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “In addition to the time you’re putting in teaching at the Academy.”

  “Yep.”

  “And Joe has no clue that this is all to begin…”

  “Next week”, they say in unison. “Yeah,” said Grace. “It all kicks off this Monday morning.”

  “Oh boy,” Maggie sighed. “This is what we would call a pretty big deal, sweetie. How long have you known?”

  “About a month.”

  “Grace!”

  “I know, I know. “Every time I try to tell him, I just lose my nerve. He was hoping that the summer Arts program would be minimal.”

  “Define minimal.”

  “Oh, maybe 15 to 20 hours a week,” Grace said. “Turns out, we’re looking at like 60 hours each with all the administrative stuff and fund raising they want me to do in addition to my instruction. They love the way I hustled to get this last grant. They think I’m perfect for the job. And I’ll tell you the worst part…”

  “Oh, this gets worse?”

  “The truth of the matter is that I’m feeling guilty…because…”

  “…because you don’t really feel that guilty?”

  It felt so good to have someone understand. Grace half smiled. “Precisely. I realized when that grant came through, that I am perfect for the job. They really need me, and I really want it, Mags.”

  “Do you have a clue what you’re going to do next?”

  “What I should have done weeks ago.”

  “Well, you know that Joe’s not a tyrant. You’re not marching to your death here.”

  “I know. But you know how he gets when something disappoints him.”

  “Girl, please. I’m not even married to him and I hate letting him down.”

  “I mean, there was so much I wanted to do between little Gwennie and the twins…but I just didn’t want to rock the boat. We’ve made this great life here, Joe and me, ya know?”

  Maggie sympathetically touched Grace’s hand as the latter leaned back on a large throw pillow, closed her eyes and exhaled a deep sigh of her own. “I know,” Maggie said.

  “I just feel like if I tell him what I’m feeling…”

  “Grace, give the guy some credit. I mean, I know he cried when he saw Mr. Holland’s Opus, but the guy’s made of stern stuff.”

  The women laughed. Maggie went on. “Seriously, trust him not to shut down on you.”

  Grace wiped an emerging tear from her eye. “Yeah, thanks hon.”

  “Call me tomorrow?”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, wait…”

  Maggie made a quick sprint up stairs to her room, returning just as quickly with a large manila envelope containing tickets and back stage laminates.

  “You guys won’t get too far without these,” she said smiling. “Now, I don’t have to be downtown until 3:30, so, a call any time before then will be fine, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Gracie. Hey, let me pay you back for those groceries.”

  “Oh, don’t sweat it-You already paid me back by just listening.”

  A final embrace before Grace made her way back to her car. “I love you too,” she said.

  Chapter 4

  The Buchanan residence was a sprawling structure on the outskirts of Franklin that dated back to the Civil War. When they bought it shortly before their marriage, the refurbishing became a team effort, with Maggie and both the Hammond and the Buchanan families pitching in to spruce up the place. As it transformed from an ancient ailing farmhouse to spacious living area, it easily became the center of many a holiday and family celebration.

  Grace’s artistic touch allowed a bit of city style to be added the décor without detracting from the rustic charm of it all. “Comfortably lavish,” was the way Maggie always described it.

  As she pulled her car into the garage they had built onto the side, Grace summoned all of her courage in one breath and said quietly, “Okay, God. Help me out here.”

  Joe Buchanan was a picture of academic repose in his study. Grace stood in the doorway and observed this sensitive soul. She chided herself for thinking that this gentle man could send her into a state of panic. This was Joe. The love of her life. What
on earth was making her so nervous?

  When she met him, he was an associate professor of English Literature at the university she and Maggie attended in Nashville. As if scripted from some romantic novel, Joe Buchanan was the object of many an undergraduate fantasy: Dark wavy hair cascading an inch or so below the nape of his neck; a faint hint of facial hair that covered the deep olive skin that was a direct result of Greek ancestry on his mother’s side. Initially, Grace found him to be a bit too intense for her taste - she always liked being the one to bring the fire to a relationship.

  Passionate about his career, but rather awkward in his social graces, it was rare when Joe would cast his eyes on a young lady in any fashion other than professional. But when 18 year old Grace Hammond became a member of the student population, her porcelain beauty immediately caught his attention.

  Even though he knew there was a mutual attraction, acting on anything would be insane. It was a rare occurrence to even see them in anything beyond brief casual conversation. But as they moved in their individual orbits, there was the intermittent sidelong glance that would indicate that there was definitely something growing below the surface.

  It was, in fact one of those quick, chance glances where, if either would have hesitated or chosen another line of sight, the final opportunity would have been forever missed. But in that strange way in which worlds collide, at the midpoint of Grace’s senior year, she and Joe locked onto one another from across the commons area in the student union. He was checking his office mail, she was chatting over coffee with Maggie.

  A nod of the head from her. A shy smile from him.

  And a romance was born.

  With Joe not wanting to leave the Nashville of his youth, Grace adjusted her New York dreams to build on his. He supported her as she acquired her master’s degree. She then supported him through his eventual promotion to head of the university’s English department.

  We can do this, she would reason internally. I can get him out to New York for some romantic getaways…get him to love the city as much as I do. He can teach, I can create. We’ll get there. We’ve got all the time in the world.